The Life of Brian’s Statue: The living dead
Well, the nights are drawing in; it’s getting cold, and, now and again, a wind kicks up that threatens to blow me off my plinth. I can feel something strange in the air. In the dead of night, I’m sure I can hear howling in the distance. We’re getting close to Halloween, so I reckon there’ll be some beasties around soon. The creatures of the night will be gathering in the nooks and crannies of Old Market Square – scuttling on the rooftops and slithering down alleyways.
Even after all the night clubs have closed, y’can hear cackling from all around – from the kind of nightlife that doesn’t need a taxi home – they’ve got broomsticks. We’ll be seeing ghoulies and ghosties, zombies and vampires, and all sorts besides. Some people don’t believe in vampires, but I bloody well do! I’m met a few in my time, they somehow find a way to become the chairman of a football club. Some of ‘em are all right, but one or two are bloodsuckers. They’re a bloody dodgy lot.
There are some bad people in this world, crooks, villains, conmen, used car salesmen, but the worst of the lot has to be the chairman of a football club. They like to hold the purse strings, they reckon they’ve got the best interests of the club at heart and, of course, they love the drama, they like to be the centre of attention. That’s why I never got on with ‘em. They didn’t like Old Big Ead getting all the limelight.
So, my advice to any up and coming football manager is always keep an eye on yer chairman. When he looks you in the eye while shaking your hand, and thanking you for everything you’ve done, it makes yer blood run cold. It’s at times like that you think you’re about to get the bullet, and sometimes you have to accept it. After all there’s a lot at stake in the world of football these days.
So, when he turns to you and says, ‘Fangs for the memories,’ you don’t hang around…